


Once Upon a Timepiece

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angels are Dicks, Being a Prophet Sucks, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Cursed Object, Curses, Deities, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Immortals, M/M, Miracles, Once Upon A Time, Parody, Power Struggle, Real Life, Skeevy Witches, Slash, Timepiece, True Love's Kiss, Willowelf, Witches, on the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just outside New Orleans, a small town becomes home to fairy-tale miracles, drawing the attention of the supernatural world. The Winchesters investigate, but they could be dealing with something they've never dealt with before: a powerful curse on fairy tale characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dues Ex Machina

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : All episodes through 08x20 Pac-Man Fever.

**The Middle Kingdom**. Darkness had nothing but the stars speckling the sky to light the way. The Prince's eyes could see nothing but the pale reflection of starlight in the ocean, so he followed on the heels of his most loyal servant, who moved with swift, long steps towards the cliff. They stopped and leaned their backs against the wall, and Molo handed his master the darkest silk ever known. Indeed, had the Prince not known what Molo wordlessly handed him, he would have thought it were nothing but air.

They wrapped themselves in the silk. Then Molo heaved his master to his back and ran up the flat, thankless edge of the cliff, up and up as if it were horizontal instead of vertical, till the cliff merged with the castle walls, and again until he reached the very ledge of egress. Without a moment's rest, the servant continued to leap and to gallop over the tenfold walls, till he reached the third gateway of the grand hall. 

Light lingered nearby. Someone had kept the candles lit in the corridor well past the time of sleep. Molo placed the Prince back on his own feet, and he led the way to the fifteenth door. 

Rose-Red stood in her quarters, dressed in the finest of garments and surrounded by gold and jade. When she saw the Prince, she took his hand and said, "I knew you were wise beyond your years, but, what magic, what power have you used to come here?"

The Prince replied, "Not my own." He indicated his dutiful servant, and her eyes fell upon Molo with sincerity. 

"Please," she said to the servant, "though I have the finest gold and garments, they are but chains and bars to imprison me. Force alone keeps me here, and only one with the power to enter this castle unwelcome can possibly remove me from it. I will gladly serve your master for my remaining days should I be freed. Will you save me?"

Molo looked to the Prince and saw how much he wished to rescue the maiden from her enslavement. He bowed to her and said, "Surely I will save you from this place as my name is Molo."

 

 **Grand Isle, Louisiana**. Edward sat at a patio table at the Beanery and Brewery Coffee Shop, eating his breakfast as slowly as possible. 

Alex stood across the street with her odd little drum at her hip. He could tell she was ready to sing; she always tapped a count with her shoeless left foot before singing with her percussion. 

Siler moved up the street towards the coffee shop, puffing on his pipe. His bloodshot eyes caught Alex's pre-song ritual, too, so Siler turned and leaned his back against the wall off the cafe. 

Alex started, "Will you save me, save me - "

She stopped, as if considering a philosophical problem. Instead of her drum, she used her two hollow drumsticks to draw the rhythm. She tapped her foot and shifted the percussion, then started again. She sang:

Now and here, stuck in the moment  
till it's prologue and no more than  
that memory we just don't wan'  
anymore –

Anymore we don't own it,  
anymore we don't know it,  
that memory trapped in the moment   
until –

Soon two, guess they'll appear 'round  
clearing the walls we haven't found  
that memory buckled under its own   
weight –

Weight thrown over us from our enemies  
some kinda magic, some kinda destiny  
meanwhile, pour all that cosmic chemistry   
down...

All that cosmic chemistry down –  
down, down, and down.

She returned to her usual drumming between songs, humming the tune, changing it. Sometimes she had a country-like twang and sometimes a roughness. Sometimes she chanted. Edward didn't know why, but whenever she sang, no matter how poorly executed, people seemed to enjoy it.

The awkward teenaged Rommel was a good example. He was the janitor of the coffee shop, and at the beginning of Alex's song, he'd been sweeping the patio. By the middle, he was next to Siler, his back pressed against the wall, looking straight up to the sky.

Edward could see it: Rommel and Siler, back in their old lives, their real lives, looking up at the massive cliff of the castle. 

That's when he saw it. Siler waved his trusty fan to Alex's new percussion, as if asking for an encore. The decorative gravel that surrounded the sidewalk next to Siler glowed. It was subtle; Edward only noticed it because he knew what to look for. 

"Rommel!" barked Angela, the store manager. 

The boy snapped out of his song-trance and gripped his broom like a lifeline. "Sorry, Ms. Fairfax, I was just – "

"Finish up out here and get back in the shop!" Angela cut him off. 

Rommel rushed back to the patio. Siler shrugged and strode away, his bare belly flapping out of his too-short shirt. 

Edward swooped over to the gravel. On the pretext of tying his shoe, he grabbed the suspect rocks.

They weren't rocks anymore; they were gold. Pure gold. This was it, the push he'd been waiting on for weeks. Every day, more was happening, and it wouldn't be long before others descended on his small hometown and tore it apart, especially if gold appeared everywhere. He needed them to remember.

From a child, his mother had told him, had insisted, that love was a kind of magic. Like magic, it was an invisible substance. You could see only what magic or love produced, not the thing itself. In this way, both were powerful mysteries. Love, as magic, was more powerful than anything else, because not only did it weather incredible storms, but where it broke, it healed over all the stronger. 

Edward crossed the street to Alex, a girl he had liked since the age of sixteen. She'd given him hope. Where his heart broke over his mother's grave, Alex rebuilt it all the stronger. When he left for college, she wrote to him, and though they never dated, their bond was profound. Ever since he graduated and returned home, he couldn't help but let that grow into something more. 

Alex stopped strumming. Edward took her in his arms and whispered, "I love you." Then he dragged her into a deep, magnificent kiss.

Well, as magnificent as he could make it. She kissed back and smiled at him when he pulled away.

"Thanks," she replied. 

Edward whispered, "Rose-Red?"

Alex's eyebrows furrowed. "That's not funny. It's just a sunburn." 

Edward nodded and walked away. She didn't respond to her old name; she actually thought it was a taunt. If love wouldn't help her remember who she was, what possibly could?

He doubled his pace; he needed to get back to his book.

 

 **Concordia, Kansas**. Sam rode shotgun, his ear to his shotgun.

"You finished scorching the windows with holy fire? Good. And what about the hex bags? Right, but you need to make sure Jo and Kevin have them at all times, okay? Right, sure. I – no, Aiden, slow down. Okay, well, we made two dozen demon bombs for that very reason."

Sam listened for a long time. "No, I'm glad you're asking, okay? I don't mind. I'll keep you in the loop."

He hung up. 

"Hunter 'tweens are hardcore," Dean said. "We shouldn't have left them alone."

"They're not alone."

"Right."

"They're older than we were when we hunted."

"We should go back, or send Garth – "

"Stop it," Sam said. "We've had this conversation too many times."

"We need gas."

Dean gassed up the Impala, and Sam walked off to listened to his voicemail. 

"To listen to your voice mail, please enter your password, then press pound," said the automatic voice on the phone. Sam entered 01240502# into his hope and waited. 

"You have two new messages."

The first message was in a barely audible whisper. "Hey, Sam, this is Kevin. Kevin Tran. I'm in my angel-free closet - I mean, the room that I've – Never mind. I'm being totally tailed by angels, and I know you said something about demons – and I'm pissed. And I am not quitting college, okay? So, do me a favor, and talk with your winged friend about a plan of action. And call me back. It's Kevin Tran. Okay, thanks bye."

"Hey Sam, it's me," he immediately recognized Dodge's voice. "So, uh, there are apparently some things going on in Grand Isle, Louisiana. As in, miracle-level things. The press isn't on this yet, but it's just a matter of time. I think you should ignore my other e-mails and just check this out. Figured you might want to know for your, uh, weird story collection."

"You have no more messages."

Sam wasn't sure why Dodge called him; he was very diligent about getting through all her e-mails quickly. Whatever it was, she must've thought it was important.

When Dean got back in the Impala, Sam began with, "We've gotta case."

"What? No. We've gotta get home so we can let Cas in."

"We need to get back to the bunker to get my truck," Sam said. "And then we need to get out there."

"Why?" 

"Trust me, Dean, we need to look into this case."


	2. The MacGuffin

"Mrs. Tran, we will," Dean said into his phone. "Don't worry about any of that. Okay? We're on it. And things've stopped. We'll hunt the sons of bitches down and make sure you're okay."

After another few minutes, he said, "Oh, wait, you're – " Then he hung up. "Wow," he commented, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket.

"What's going on?" Sam asked from behind the wheel. 

"We've successfully amped Tran's terror level to red," said Dean, rolling his eyes. "At least the hunter 'tweens seem to be taking it in stride. And seriously."

"That's good."

"Sam, we drove out there like maniacs, and – nothing."

"Not nothing, Dean, something went down there," Sam replied. "We just don't know what."

"We know it's not devil dogs of doom, er, Salties," Dean corrected himself. "They weren't in any danger and we just shook the trees out there."

"You don't know that."

"You find any more signs or omens?" Dean asked.

"Not in New Jersey. I did get some reports of omen-like weather elsewhere but a different pattern."

"So, you found nothing."

"If it stopped, it stopped for a reason," Sam snapped back. "Even if we did gank that one witch in South Carolina, you were the one that said it, there's gotta be at least two more in the other states."

Dean sat back in the passenger seat. "We should've taken my baby."

"I don't think you'll think that once we're there," Sam replied with a smile. 

Dean fidgeted in his seat, "What's this case again?"

"Series of local miracles in Louisiana about two hours outside of New Orleans."

"Miracles?" Dean asked. 

"People making incredible recoveries at age eighty, rocks being turned into silver, that kind of thing."

"Seriously?"

"Figured we should check it out before it snowballed."

"Snowballed? Into what?"

"No idea," Sam replied. "Reports started over the summer before the tourist season, then just stopped in high-tourist tide, then started up again a few weeks ago."

"You're thinking its something creepy and crawly that hides from tourists?"

Sam laughed. "I think it's like that wishing well we ran into. Good things happen then suddenly, a zombie's eating your brains."

"Zombies?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Dean sulked. Maybe he noticed Sam looking at him a little long, because Dean asked, "What?"

"Did you get a chance to talk to Cas?" Sam asked.

"You mean in the three seconds we got to switch cars?" Dean replied dryly. "No, you dragged me on this stupid case."

Sam felt guilty. He wanted to give Dean and Cas some time to check in, finally make up. They deserved it. But Dodge called him on this case, which meant it was big, and he had to look into it.

He wondered when Dodge's opinion became so important to him. It seemed like only yesterday he thought she'd double-cross him, and now he dropped everything for her. 

Dean turned up Styx, distracting Sam from his thoughts.

 

 **The Middle Kingdom**. The pious man, a bonze, asked the farmer, "You have so much, won't you spare me a single pear from your cart?"

But no matter how he asked, the farmer refused. A bystander purchased a pear from the miser and turned immediately to the bonze, "Sir, here, please, I cannot stand the noise any longer. Your pleadings have caused great commotion."

The bonze broke into a smile as he took the pear. "Thank you kindest sir. One like me, who has given up the world, cannot be miserly. So I tell you all, I have many fine pears that equal to this, and I invite each of you to take and eat."

He took the small pair and put it into the ground in the middle of the market place. And sure enough, up sprang a tree that grew to a grand size and fruit appeared on its branches. No one even looked at the farmer's produce as they plucked the fine fruit and ate freely. 

"For from the good heart is the richness that no fruit can yield," said the bonze to the farmer. Then he disappeared.

 

 **Grand Isle, Louisiana**. Edward woke up. He hated having dreams like that. They were vivid and compelling and felt like being alive, until he woke up in his old bed and remembered his own life, devoid of magic.

Who was the bonze? Because Edward knew that face in his dream. He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his book. Yes, he'd read this story: the Miserly Farmer. He scanned through it again before it occurred hit him.

"Ariq," he whispered. 

Edward dressed himself and went to the hospital. On the pretext of signing up for volunteer hours, he hovered around the front desk. 

Then he heard it, the telltale sound of Ariq's crutch. He spoke with the head administrative nurse, who seemed less than please. 

"You can't turn him away just because he's homeless," Ariq said. 

"He's drunk. He should sleep it off!" the nurse said. 

"The man has a gaping head wound, which you would see if you took ten seconds to really look at him," he replied. "You send him away, and he'll die."

The head nurse walked away shaking her head. 

Edward signed up for two hours next week when Ariq would be helping patients with their insurance and health care forms. If anyone in this town was the bonze from the Miserly Farmer, it would have to be Ariq, but Edward never saw anything magical happen around him. Not yet.

Ariq waved him a fond hello strode by with his awkward crutch. 

"Say, Ariq," Edward said. "Where did you get that?"

He smiled. "I don't remember, but I did tell the mayor that I wouldn't trade this in for another crutch or cane until everyone in this town received the same kind of attention I got for this old thing."

"It looks heavy," Edward commented. The thing looked like it was made of metal.

"Not for me," Ariq said as he continued on his way.

 

Sam sat at the downtown coffee shop waiting for Dean. Some of the reports came from this general area, but they were spread over weeks. There were three reports of people spontaneously healing, two reports of a man disappearing into thin air, and half dozen reports of gravel turning into silver. 

"Mr. Ogden," the awkward teen working the patio said to a sickly-looking man leaving the shop. Sam wondered if he was waiting around for magic healing, since the his face was almost blue against his red hair. 

"I told you, it's Deshane," he said the teen. "Keep it light, Rommel, see you tomorrow."

Deshane stopped just a few feet from the patio, almost next to Sam, and pulled out an ornate pocket watch for the time. 

"Time," he remarked to Sam, "even 'tween strangers, we can agree, there's jus' not enough o' it, huh?"

Dean dropped into his seat at the table. "Okay, so, I've got nothing," he announced. 

"Me either."

Their attention suddenly snapped to a man riding, or miming the act of riding, a donkey on a stick. Clearly the toy had been made for a man of his size, which begged the question who would make such a thing for a six-foot tall man?

Once he arrived at the shop, he tossed the toy over his shoulder, and a strap held it in place across his back. 

"Uncle Mervin," said Rommel. "Why're you 'ere?"

Mervin replied, "I came to give you this."

He handed Rommel a set of house keys. "You can't leave these at home when I have work. Not if you wanna get back after you clock out," he said. Rommel nodded along in embarrassment.

With that, Mervin walked back to the street, mounted his non-donkey, and mimed his exit.

"What the hell?" Dean said.

"Dean," Sam whispered, indicating someone sitting at another table. 

Dean peeked and saw an elderly woman's stooped back slowly straightened out. It looked like ten years peeled away from her. 

"It worked!" she whispered to the person sitting with her. "You were right!" 

Sam indicated he'd check it out. As the old woman got up and began walking, then later dancing, around the patio, he swooped in to speak to her companion.

"Hi," he began, "I'm Sam."

"I'm Charles, Chuck," he replied. "That's my mom."

"I see that," Sam said. "Look, Chuck, I brought my brother here because I've heard things. He's not doing well, and he's my only family. Please."

Chuck thought on this and said, "You need to talk to Ziegler. I don't know what's going on, but he told me to bring mom here around this time, and – "

His eyes traveled to his mother doing the moonwalk. 

"Doctors said she had weeks left, maybe." 

"Ziegler?"

"Yeah, Ed Ziegler. He's over on Tristen Street."

"Thank you, thanks," Sam replied eagerly.

 

"No," Dean repeated. "Just, no."

"We need to figure out what's doing this before people start mutating into psycho killers or frogs," Sam said.

"Frogs?" Dean asked sarcastically. "You must be tired."

"We need to talk to this Ziegler guy."

"Fine, how's this? I'll get my suit and go chat to the local doctors about the mysterious healing," Dean suggested. "You talk to whoever."

"What're you going to tell the doctors again Dean? 'Hi, I'm with the FBI, and I'm here to ask about people getting better.'?"

"No. I could go with, what, insurance fraud scam? Right? Someone says they're sick, magically gets better after lots of expense? Someone's gotta look into it."

Sam's snappy retort didn't make it out of his mouth. "All right, sure. Have fun," he said. "But you're walking."

"Damn," Dean muttered as Sam stepped into his pickup.

 

Sam parked on a main road and walked onto Tristen Street, which had about six houses on it. A young man crashed into Sam by accident, stepping back with an "Oh!"

"Sorry," Sam said.

"I'm sorry," the young man replied.

"I'm, well, looking for Ed Ziegler," Sam said hopefully.

"Oh, he's there, in the blue house, cher."

Without another word, the young man rounded on the main road and was gone. 

Sam approached the blue house and saw ZEIGLER on the mailbox. That was promising. He saw no car in the driveway, but he approached anyway. 

He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing. As calmly as possible, Sam took out his lock picks and unlocked the door. 

The inside was unremarkable. Whoever lived here had no books about magic, the occult, or monsters. Sam poured over the living room, dining room, even checked the basement, and found nothing in the way of witchcraft or the supernatural. His EMF reader uncovered nothing. 

He went upstairs and found a very short hallway with only three doors: a bathroom and two bedrooms. One looked unoccupied, but Sam searched it anyway. 

The second bedroom had an old book on the nightstand. Its leather cover had Chinese symbols on it, but the text was all in English. 

He waved the EMF reader over the book, and it lit up like a Christmas tree. 

"Bingo," he said to himself as he pocketed it.

 

"Can you tell me anything else?" Dean asked again.

Doctor Shubert shook her head. "Sorry, no."

"So, your sickest patients are now healthy, and you have no idea how?" 

Shubert smiled. "Cher, you can' jus' expec' the en'ire world tah make sense fer you."

"You agree, then, that these are miracles?"

"Why no'?" she replied. "I can' prove tha's wha's been goin' on, bu' I'm mor'in happy to believe i'. These're good people. You understand? I'm no' sorry their doin' be'er, and yeh, I say doin' be'er because before they 'ere dyin', make no mis'ake."

"Right, thanks for your time, then."

Dean walked off and pulled out his phone. "I got nadda. Will you pick me up at the hospital?"

As he made for the door, Dean nearly crashed into Ariq. 

"Woah, sorry there," Dean said. "My bad."

"Cher, you're jus' sayin' that because of the crutch."


	3. Red Herring

Dean's expression was somewhere between extremely pissed off and completely confused. 

"This is what you swiped from the guy's house?" Dean asked. He held the leather bound book.

"That was the only thing in his house that looked suspicious," Sam said defensively. 

"A book of fairy tales? That's how vanilla this guy is?"

"Dean, look at the table of contents."

"Oh, let's see," Dean mocked as he opened the book. "Do you think he's got some mojo from The Silkworm Goddess? Oh, how about this one? The Flying Ogre? Oh, no, I got it. It's Sky O'Dawn. No, no, Fox-Fire – "

"Dean!" Sam interrupted. "Look at the notes in the margins."

"Hiren, Ariq, Hayden, Alex, Rommel, Janya, Mervin, and Siler," Dean read. "And?"

"Rommel," Sam repeated. "That's the awkward kid at the coffee shop. Mervin was - "

"Horse on a stick guy, yeah," Dean cut him off. "Your point?"

"What names are they lined up with?"

"Seriously?" Dean said. "Fairy book characters? That's what you're going with?"

"If this is a cursed object, maybe he writes in people's names and their personalities change to match," Sam suggested. 

"Then why miracles?"

"All the characters in the book have powers or encounter magical forces, maybe it's just a byproduct he can't control." 

"Okay, so, nothing witchy at this guy Zeigler's place, you think he's just writing names in here?" Dean asked. "Cursed objects don't work like that."

"Maybe he's got a witch lair," Sam said. 

"Okay, baring this one book, maybe we should look into our other options?" Dean replied.

"Which are, what, exactly?"

"Wishing wells or coins. Witchcraft from someone else, fairy magic," Dean said. "Anything else."

"You get anything from the hospital?"

"Attitude."

"Great, so I'm going to stick with fairy tales," Sam said.

He took the book from Dean and sat back down on his motel bed. He scanned over the table of contents and saw that Janya had multiple lines drawn to the table, one pointing to The Flower Elves, another to The Lady of the Moon, and another to The Disowned Prince. Three names had lines to one story called How Molo Stole the Lovely Rose-Red, so Sam flipped the book open to that page.

On the page below the title, more was written: Rommel, Prince. Alex, Rose-Red. Siler, Molo. Sam read it, then flipped through the others.

Dean paced for a while. "You said this guy's name is Zeigler?" he asked. 

"Wha- yeah, Ed Zeigler."

"I'm going to talk to him, FBI-style," Dean said. 

Sam was too immersed in the book to hear Dean.

 

 **The Middle Kingdom**. The scholar lived in a very remote area. So remote, no other person ever came to her doorstep. 

Till one day, a fine maiden approached her, and with utmost curtsey spoke, "My sisters and I are here to meet with the eighteen aunts, and desperately need a place to stay."

The scholar saw that these were no ordinary women, so she allowed them to stay in her home as they met with the eighteen aunts, or the wind spirits. She saw them eat together, saw a fight rear up, and the eighteen aunts leave with bitter regard to her guests. 

The same fine maiden approached her and said, "Thank you, fine scholar, for your hospitality. Forever will your garden grow to its fullest."

The scholar stopped her, "Please, dearest maiden, tell me your distress."

She said, "We are the flower-elves, and every spring we are taunted by naughty winds. We hoped for the protection of the eighteen aunts, but one of us offended them, and we cannot hope for such again."

The scholar felt for their condition, and she said, "I cannot hope to offer you more than the eighteen aunts, but perhaps I can set up a small scarlet flag in the east at the beginning of each New Year. This should offer you protection from the evils of the winds and win favor with the east."

The maiden and her sisters all cried out in joy. "If this you will do for us, we will cause flowers to bloom wheresoever your feet touch down, and even the petals fallen from the flowers will seek you out in remembrance."

 

Janya collected the wilted flowers left at the tombstones in her cemetery. She piled them in her truck to be hauled off tomorrow and went to close up for the day. She stepped into her groundskeeper office to see someone was already waiting for her. 

"Edward," she said by way of greeting. 

"Janya," he said, "I was hoping we could talk. I'm looking for a landscaper – "

"I'm at my other job right now," she said. "Call me, make an appointment."

"Oh, right, sorry, I just..." Edward sputtered. "You work a lot with flower?"

"Here I do, mostly cleaning them up."

"You find that petals like you?"

"What?"

Edward covered his hunch by pointed out the petals stuck to her arm. She wiped them off.

"I guess so," she said shortly. "You need a landscaper, here's my card."

She handed him a small business card. 

"Thanks, Janya," Edward replied as he left.

Edward drove his Saab back to his house. His entire day had been a failure. He still wasn't sure who Janya was, and he didn't even know how many there were. He needed his book. 

He was missing something, and he just didn't know what it was. If love wasn't a cure for a curse, what was? And why didn't his book have a single story about how to break a curse?

He parked in the street in front of his house. Someone was on his porch.

"Hello?" Edward said to the stranger.

"Are you Edward Zeigler?" Dean asked. 

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"I'm Agent Andrews, FBI."

"FBI?" Ed repeated. 

"I need to speak with you, if you don't mind," Dean indicated the front door.

"Okay, uh, sure."

 

Edward led the FBI Agent into his living room and offered some tea.

"No, thanks," Dean declined. "Sit."

Edward complied.

"I'm here investigating a series of odd events," Dean began. "And I have reason to believe you're involved."

"Me? Involved? In...events?" Edward squirmed.

"Yeah," Dean leaned forward and looked him in the eyes, "let's just say, all this will go a lot smoother if you cooperate."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Okay, but I need to go get something – "

"No," Dean said. 

"But – "

"I don't need a PowerPoint, kid."

Edward bit his lip. "At least eight people in this town, maybe more, maybe everyone, is a fairy tale character."

"Fairy tale character?"

"Not the ones you're thinking of, with Tinkerbelle and Big Bad Wolves," Edward continued. "The book I have, it has stories from the Middle Kingdom, and it - "

"Sorry, you expect me to believe this?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

Dean got up and crowded Edward, putting on his best bully. "Look, kid, I deal with crazy all day long, but I'm not buying this fairy-tale thing. You're into something, and you're going to tell me."

"Me? No, I'm not – " Edward stuttered. "This all started before I was even here, when I was still in college."

"What was happening?"

"They're remembering who they are," he tried to explain. "They're stuck here, I'm just trying to set them free."

As ridiculous as this kid sounded, Dean could see he wasn't lying. He actually believed this crap, which meant he was probably Kermit, and Dean needed to find the hand up his ass. 

"Good news," Dean said, lightening up. "I believe you."

"You, you believe me? The FBI believes me? And fairy tales?" 

"No, hell no," Dean snapped. "The FBI wants me to fix what's going on here, they don't need to know every little detail."

"But I thought – "

"You really want to tell people about this? To file a government report with your signature saying fairy tale creatures are a-frolic in Louisiana?"

"No."

Dean nodded. "Then follow my lead here. Where did you get this book?"

"My fairy tale book? I can show you – "

"No, I don't need the book, I need to know where you got it."

"An old high school teacher of mine gave it to me," Edward replied. "His name is Deshane Ogden."

"Great," Dean said. "Give me his address."

 

After terrifying Edward into stay in his house for the rest of the day, Dean drove back to the motel to pick up his brother. 

"Come on, we've got someone to talk to," Dean said curtly. 

Sam climbed into the passenger seat of his own pickup. "I should be driving."

"Shut up, Sam, I've got the address."

"Fine, what did you find?"

"Well, Ed Zeigler is crazy and thinks this town is filled with trapped fairy tale characters," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

"He, uh, might be on to something." 

Dean almost slammed on the breaks. "Seriously?"

"This book has EMF like crazy, so it's got some kind of mojo. Maybe these aren't fairy tale people from other lands, but they could be people in a curse of some kind."

"Okay, if that's the case, how would we even confirm that? EMF read the vics?"

"I dunno," Sam replied. "But the miracles in this town are similar to the events in this book, so there's some connection."

Then Dean really did slam on the breaks. 

Mervin, the crazy old coot they'd seen earlier, was riding down the road on a beautiful donkey, white as paper. When he reached his destination, the library, he picked the animal up and threw it over his shoulder, where it stayed in the guise of a donkey on a stick.

"Did you – "

"See that? Hell yes I saw that," Sam said, his jaw literally dropping. 

"What? What? Why? Why would anyone – "

"I have no idea."

"Who is Mervin listed as?" Dean asked.

"He's, uh, Sky O'Dawn."

Dean scowled at his brother. "Elaborate, Sammy."

"Right, uh, magical child turned out later to be the Star of the Great Year - "

"Mule-related, Sam."

"Donkey," Sam corrected. "And in the story it's a white steed nine feet tall that he rescues and tames. But this version is... weird."

"All versions of this are weird!"

"People are honking," Sam commented.

"What?"

"We should go!" 

"Oh, right," Dean put the truck in gear and drove.

 

Deshane opened the door to see two FBI Agents with their badges out. 

"Uh, hi," he said. "I'm Deshane."

"We're here to talk to you about something," Dean said, pushing inside. Sam followed.

"How can I help you?"

Deshane's pale-white, almost blue skin unnerved Sam. His shock of red hair made him hard to look at.

"You recognize this?" Sam asked, placing the book on the man's coffee table. 

"Yes, that's The Chinese Fairy Book," he said with a smile. "I gave that to Edward."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"He just graduated college this May, and his mother died during the summer. He came to me, talking about miracles and magic, and, well, I can't blame him, cher," Deshane replied. His accent seemed lopsided, though he did have a mild drawl. 

"Can't blame him?" Dean repeated.

"We all grieve differently, and he'd just finished getting ready to go out into the world, make his mom proud, and, well she – "

"Died," Sam completed. "So why the book?"

"Obviously I was concerned about him, his obsession, so I gave him this book, hoping it would, I dunno, distract him."

"Well, you failed," Dean sneered. "Because he thinks that this town's full of fairy tale characters from this book."

Deshane took out his pocket watch. It was habit, really, checking the time. 

"That watch," Sam said, "it has the same marking on it as the book."

"Oh, yeah," Deshane said. "I got them at the same place."

"When?"

"Uh, April, I think."

Dean asked, "Where did you buy them?"

"The Antiquities Shoppe."

Sam picked up the book. 

"He hasn't done anything, has he?" Deshane asked. "Edward, I mean."

"That remains to be seen," Dean said as they left.


	4. Checkhov's Gun

Dean and Sam rounded on the Antiquities Shoppe, which was an old shop set up to sell antiques and other odds and ends. 

"This is it?" Sam asked. 

"Sam," Dean whispered and nodded his head towards the courtyard opposite them. "Look."

Alex played percussion there, and it echoed hugely. A tall, narrow-shouldered man approached her and showed her something in his hand. She nodded and stopped her music.

After a minute, he began to play his flute. Alex added rhythm, and they jived with one another. 

"Birds," Sam muttered to Dean. 

Birds gathered around, as if listening the music. As people passed by, a few tried to touch the birds, mostly children, and the birds allowed them to. They didn't even flinch.

"Pied Piper," Dean whispered to his brother. "Am I right?"

"Can't be sure," Sam whispered. "But Ed wrote about a guy named Hiren, a hunter, well, a normal hunter, who is really Yang Oerlang."

"Not the Pied Piper."

"Not really, but has power over animals, kind of."

Then something very surprising happened. A tall man with a sturdy, solid build strode towards the music, and as he approached, he suddenly disappeared. But the birds hopped away from his general path, as if he was still there, just not visible.

"Uh, ghost?" Dean offered. "Invisible man."

"Fox-Fire," Sam whispered. "I read that one, about a farmer imbued with powers from swallowing fox-fire, including invisibility."

"I say we tear up this joint," Dean said, stepping away from the mayhem besetting the courtyard and into the shop.

 

Edward panicked. The book was gone. The book was gone. The book was just gone! 

Maybe the FBI took it from him, maybe someone else stole it, but that didn't matter. Now he was screwed. 

He needed proof. Or at least something that engendered some kind of doubt in reality. He needed something. 

Edward scrambled around his house, pulling out books, and heirlooms, and finally photographs. That's it. He needed to find the right photographs. Then the FBI would have to believe him.

As if they could arrive any second, Edward hurried through every photo in his house.

 

"Hello," Sam said to the only man in the store. "We're looking for the owner."

"You foun' him," the man replied.

"I'm Agent Andrews," Dean said, holding out his badge. "What's you're name?"

"Nicholas Sweeney. Nick."

"Nick, we're here to ask you about some items you've sold," Sam said. "A pocket watch with this symbol on it." He indicated the symbol on the book cover.

Nick looked at it, "Tha's the character for 'tear' in Chinese. Sold tha' to Ogden months ago."

"Where did you get them?" 

"Wha'?"

"You sold them, fine, but where did you get them?"

"Uh, I can look i' up – "

"Please," Sam said. 

With a nod, Nick swept to the back of his store. 

Sam casually pulled out his EMF reader and popped on his special specs for hex bags before. He made short work of the store. 

"Well?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing but the book."

Nick came back out. "That watch came in before I owned this store," he said. 

"From?"

"Dunno, cher," Nick replied. "It wa' here when the store opened."

"You've no records of that?" Sam asked.

"It was o'er fifty years ago," he snapped. 

"Okay, what about the book?"

"What book?"

"This book," Sam held it up again. 

"Cher, we don't sell books here. We ne'er have."

"You're saying this book isn't from your shop?"

"Yeah, tha's righ', I am," Nick replied. 

"Ogden," Dean and Sam said simultaneously. 

"Thanks," Sam said over his shoulder as they ran out the door.

 

Ogden wasn't at his house anymore. Why would he be? He sent them on a goose chase and made off with that time. 

"Damnit!" Dean cursed as he climbed back into the passenger seat. 

"We should talk to Ed," Sam said.

"What? Sam, it's not him, it's gotta be this Ogden guy."

"Maybe, but he gave Ed the book, right? So maybe Ed knows more."

 

Edward opened the door as if he expected guests. He looked over-caffeinated and ignored Sam entirely. 

"Agent, I knew you'd be back, and I don't have the book anymore, so I made this for you. Come on in."

He had laid out his dining room wall like a detective board.

"You see this?" he pointed to a child's photo. "This is me. I'm four."

"Okay – "

"And look at this," he pointed to another photo. He was the same age, singing with Alex, who looked just the same in the photograph as she did when they saw her today.

"Is that Alex's sister?" Sam asked.

"No, that's Alex. See?" Over three dozen other photographs documented Edward's childhood, teenage years, and even adulthood next to the ever-same Alex.

"Woah," Sam said, spotting Mervin in the same light. "And this is?" 

He pointed to a man with a pipe in his mouth. "That's Siler, but his real name is Molo."

"I saw this guy," Dean commented. He meant Ariq, the man with the crutch. 

Edward said, "He's called Ariq here, but he's actually the bonze, that's a kind of monk, from a story called the Miserly Farmer."

Sure enough, Edward had six people whose faces never changed in all his twenty-two years and the photographs to prove it.

"I lost the book," he whined. "So I needed to show you this. I needed you to see I'm not crazy."

"The man who gave you the book, Ogden, was he one of the people who never changed?"

"Yes! But I don't have photos of him."

Dean cut in. "Listen, Ed, we're glad you told us all this. We're going to take over from here."

"Take over?"

"We're going to free them from the curse," Sam said. 

"How?" Ed asked. "I've already tried true love's kiss, salting the edges of the town, even tried to convince some of them of their past. Nothing works."

"None of those would break any curse," Dean said. 

"What?"

"Leave it to us, the experts," Sam said. "If you get in our way, you might keep them stuck here forever."

Edward nodded. 

"You should get some sleep," Sam suggested before they left.

 

"I say we destroy that book and be done with it," Dean said as soon as they were back in the hotel room. 

Sam was on the phone. "No, everything's fine, Cas. Yes, I will tell Dean to call you as soon as we get done."

He hung up. "Cas gave me something that'll help us destroy this thing, we need – "

"Hoodoo? I brought all of it."

"Really?"

"We're near New Orleans, dude, hell yeah."

"You sure destroying this will work?"

"We've got freaking fairy tales here, Sam, I'm not sure of anything, butif that guy at the store was right, about the watch being here for fifty years at least, we gotta assume whoever put the whammy down must be dead."

 

Dean and Sam spent the next day wandering around Grand Isle, trying to see if destroying the book worked. 

No. The white mule appeared and disappeared. Rocks turned into silver and gold, and all the while, flowers bloomed and animals gathered like they were in a fairyland. 

"What the hell?" Sam asked. "Shouldn't this all be better now?"

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking that Ogden guy screwed us," Dean said. 

Sam looked at his watch. "School gets out here at 2:05 pm."

"Thanks, Dr. Random."

"He's a teacher, Dean, I say we grab him at work."

"You think he's at work?"

"We should try."

Dean's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Dean, good, I got you, you need to get out of that town," Cas said.

"What why?"

"Demonic omens, a lot of them," Castiel said carefully. "And the angels know about it, they'll probably be there soon."

"When did they start?"

"Five days ago," he said. "I'm not sure what's going on, but it's not good."

"Cas, we can't blow town, this case here, we need to figure it out. I don't think the weirdo crap here is just a coincidence. Whatever's coming here, they're coming for whoever the hell is in this town."

"Dean, you're not making sense."

"Look, we're staying, okay?"

"I will join you."

"No, Cas, you can't," Dean said. 

"You have Sam's truck, don't you?"

"Yeah, but – "

Cas hung up. 

"Damnit," Dean said, rushing back to the truck with a confused Sam in his wake. 

Sam took the wheel. Dean took shotgun.

"Cas," Dean whispered, poking his head to the window to the truck cap.

"Hello Sam, Dean," the angel said mildly. "What's going on?"

 

Deshane Ogden walked casually through the gym to his parking spot out back. It wasn't the fastest way out, but almost no one bothered him on his walk.

A stranger bumped into him. "So sorry," the man's voice rasped. "I'm a little lost."

"No problem," Deshane said. "Where are you going?"

Dean slipped a knife to his throat. 

"He's our decoy," he whispered to Deshane. "Thanks Cas."

Dean winked. He actually winked. Sam wanted to throw up a little but held back. 

"Wha – what's going on?" Deshane stuttered.

"Why did you lie to us about the book?" Sam demanded. "You didn't get it from the store."

"No, I did," the man's blue face looked even sicklier. "I did buy it – "

"Where's the watch?" Dean snarled. 

"Pocket, pocket," he whimpered. 

"Sam?" Dean said. "You wanna do the honors?"

Sam glared at his brother; like he wanted to grope around some guy's pocket. 

He didn't have to because Deshane pulled it out. Sam took it and added it to the jar of solution he and Dean used on the book the night before. He shook it, then lit the contents on fire. 

"Who are you?" Cas asked Deshane. 

"I'm Deshane Ogden."

"No, who are you really?" Dean asked.

 

Edward paced in his house. This entire situation was maddening. All the lights in his house flickered. 

"Hello," a woman said. When did she arrive?

"Hello," Edward said.

"I'm Olivia, who are you?"

"I'm Edward."

"Edward," she said his name softly. "I think you know why I'm here."

"For the fairy tale characters," Edward said. "You know about them?"

"I came here to help you with them, actually. This is your destiny. To save these, you called them fairy tale characters?"

"Yes."

"It's our destiny to save them."

"Our?"

"I can help you," she said. "That's why I am here. You and me, we're two pieces of the same puzzle. You know all about them, and I know how to free them. We just need to put it all together."

Edward felt the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Great, okay, well, the book... you know what, screw the book, we don't need it, let me show you..." And he was off.


	5. Anagnorisis

Siler walked toward Edward's house. Why anyone would call him in the afternoon on a weekday, he didn't know, but why not? He was surprised to see Mervin riding on his white donkey towards the same destination.

"Ahoy there," Mervin called.

"Right," Siler shouted back.

"You two, too?" Alex said as she rounded the corner. Janya walked with her.

"And me," Ariq said, already in front of the house. "I'm guessing a party, personally."

"Is Rommel with you?" Janya asked Mervin. 

"Nope."

"But I am," Hayden said. The group coalesced outside the driveway in front of Edward's house. 

"Hello," Hiren said, as he too joined the group. "This is an odd company, isn't it?"

"No odder than any other," Janya replied.

 

"Who are you?" Dean asked again.

"Deshane," he said. His eyes stared at the bottle, as if willing it to burn faster.

"I think he's telling the truth," Cas said. 

"No, he's lying."

"We should wait for the – " Cas stopped. The bottle finished burning, and a sallow green liquid that was once the timepiece evaporated.

Deshane's face became bluer, his hair more read, and his entire demeanor changed. 

"What the hell?" Dean said.

"He's one of the people cursed," Cas observed.

"Yes," Deshane said still under Dean's knife. "I was."

"Who are you?" Dean barked.

"My name is Willowelf."

Sam moved in, "Willowelf, from the book?"

"Yes, if you will, please," he said indicating the knife.

"One wrong move," Dean threatened.

"Don't worry," Deshane said, "I'm in your debt."

"Our debt?" Cas echoed. 

"Start talking," Dean demanded. 

"He's a willow tree become human," Sam explained. "A disciple of Grandfather Lu."

"Which one is Grandfather Lu?" Dean asked. "The dude with the mule?"

"Grandfather Lu is one of the eight immortals," Deshane said. "Benevolent deities, protectors of humankind, each with their own patronage. They are known – "

"Cliff notes version, Tree-Boy. What about the fairy tale characters?"

Deshane looked ashamed. "I couldn't free my teacher and the others from this place. Only non-supernatural entities could achieve it. In my attempt to break the curse about fifty years ago – "

"You got caught up in it yourself," Sam completed.

"Yes," Deshane said meekly. "I designed this book in case of such a scenario. I never knew it would take so long to find someone willing to break it."

"That's Ed?" Sam said. 

"Ed, yes, he's always been a bit more aware of everything," Deshane said. "The book was designed to inspire the holder to free the immortals from this place."

"You didn't write it in as fairy tales?" Sam asked.

"No," Deshane replied. "I bought that watch by chance back in April. I fixed it, and as soon as it started ticking, all these little miracles started happening – "

"Your memory began to come back," Castiel completed. "A cursed timepiece usually has that kind of resonance."

"So these, fairy tale characters, these eight immortals, were cursed here?" Dean asked.

"Fairy tale characters are just stories," Deshane explained. "The eight immortals, however, they're real, and they've been stuck in this place for seventy-five years."

"Now they're free?" Dean asked.

"Thanks to you."

Dean looked at Cas and Sam, neither of whom seemed terribly worried. "Hello! We just freed eight asshats with a ridiculous amount of power! Why isn't anyone else concerned?"

"Because they're benevolent," Deshane answered.

"Actually, because whatever demon is attracted by the power will find themselves, as you say, out of luck," Castiel said. "Assuming they all know who they are now, they can't be manipulated – "

"What demon?" Deshane asked.

"We don't know which one," Sam said.

"Why are you talking to him?" Dean asked.

"He's not our enemy," Cas replied.

"How do you know that? The dude's a tree!"

"Was a tree," Deshane responded. "And if you're correct about the demon, we should get Edward to safety."

"I thought you said only non-supernatural entities could break this curse?" Cas asked. "Why would a demon want him?"

"He's got perception," said Deshane. "And the demon might not know about the curse or if it's broken."

"Are we really not concerned about the eight immortal combat fairies we just let free?" Dean asked Sam and Cas.

"Not now, Dean, com'on," Sam grabbed his keys. "Get an arsenal ready on the way."

Deshane, or Willowelf or whoever he was, rode shotgun as Dean and Cas climbed into the truck bed under the cap, digging through various bags for anything they can use against demons.

 

"That's them?" Olivia said looking out the window at the hodgepodge of people gathered in front of the house.

"Yeah, but one of them didn't show," Edward replied. "I should call him – "

"No," Olivia said. 

"But he's definitely one of them," Edward pleaded. "We need them all, don't we?"

"He stayed away for a reason. He'll be along later. Why don't we go out, and you introduce me to them? Just, follow my lead. Okay?"

 

"What about the angels?" Dean whispered. "Are they here?"

"They're close, looking for someone," Cas said, "but they don't know I'm here."

"We should keep it that way."

"I'm coming with you."

"Cas, it's – "

"Until we know more about this demon, I'm not just going to hide from the world."

"And if the angels – "

"Then I will retreat if I must," Cas cut him off. "I'm not leaving. So stop trying."

Up front, Sam spoke with Deshane. "Who is who?" Sam asked. "I mean, their real identities, not the weird fairy tale ones."

"Alex is Lan Caihe," Deshane explained. "She or he, depending on who you ask, sings and can predict the future with lyrics."

"I'm guessing Mervin is Elder Zhang Guo, because of the donkey," Sam said.

"You know your immortals?" 

"No, but it's hard to forget a guy who can fold up his ride and put it in his pocket."

Deshane's face shined, literally. "Siler is Zhangli Quan, with his magic fan. Hayden is – "

"Grandfather Lu," Sam completed. "Invisibility is a dead giveaway."

"Yes, and Hiren is Han Xiangu, patron of musicians, and Ariq is Li Tien-Kuai."

"Of course, I should've know, the crutch."

"You do know your immortals," Deshane said proudly. "Janya, she's He Xiangu, patron of women."

"We didn't meet her."

"She keeps to herself."

"And, that kid, Rommel, is he one of them?"

"Yes, he's Royal Uncle Cao."

"An awkward teenager is Royal Uncle Cao?"

"The curse was meant as punishment as well as entrapment. Siler runs a meth lab. Hiren is a local huntsman with no success at his business. Hayden is a cloistered brother who never teaches."

"Whoever did this wanted to prevent the immortals from sharing their gifts?" Sam asked.

"I believe so."

"Who did it?"

"Two witches. They did it to steal the magic objects the immortals had."

"You mean someone's got – "

"No, no," Deshane said. "I found them and recovered the objects after I killed them."

"Then why did the curse – "

"I don't know why it didn't die with them," admitted Deshane. "Maybe that's why they chose a timepiece to curse."

 

"Siler, Alex, Mervin," Edward said by way of introduction. "And this is Hiren, Janya, Ariq, Hayden. Guys, this is Olivia, she's a friend. She's here to help."

"Help with what?" Ariq asked.

"That's a long story," Olivia said. "And I think we should cut to the chase. Each of you possesses something that holds the key to remembering your true identity."

"True identity?" Janya echoed. "That's why we're here?"

"You came because you know something is happening," Edward said. "If I'm wrong, nothing will happen. If we're right, then, you'll be free. What's the downside?"

"You would know better than I," Olivia said, "but the object you have would be very special to you. Something you can't let go of. This is how you are cursed. Once you place them here on the ground, you'll be free of all this."

Everyone looked awkwardly at one another.

"Alex," Edward started, "we all know about your basket you use as a drum." He turned to Ariq, "And that crutch of yours Ariq? That's holding you back."

None of them moved. Edward turned to Siler, "That pipe of yours, Siler, have you ever been parted from it?" He turned to Mervin, "And you and your white donkey. Why have you never put it down?"

Olivia shook her head. "Fine, then stay cursed." She turned to leave.

"Wait," Ariq spoke. He put his crutch down in front of himself and hobbled away from it. Mervin followed, placing his mule-on-a-stick on the ground, though he couldn't bare to walk away from it. 

Siler tossed his pipe, and Hayden dropped an ornate cross he wore around his neck. Almost on top of the pipe and cross, Janya placed a folding fan. Hiren hesitated before adding to the pile an arrowhead he wore.

Alex backed away. She would not let go of her basket. 

Olivia thought that six out of seven wasn't too bad, so she swept down and grabbed the pipe, cross, arrowhead, and folding fan pile. She turned to gather the iron crutch and donkey.

Mervin had already stowed it in his pocket. Ariq took up his crutch, and the seven circled up, in opposition to Olivia.

"Sorry, love," said Siler, "You're too late."

Olivia's eyes turned black. "It's never too late when you've got enough power," she snapped. Her voice rumbled and shook the ground.

Edward stuttered, "But you said – "

Olivia waved her hand and snapped his neck.

 

The truck pulled around just in time to see Edward's lifeless body crash to the ground. 

"No!" Deshane yelled. 

"You ready?" Sam bellowed to the back cap.

"Yes!" Dean and Cas said at the same time.

Dean took the demon knife and checked the Colt. Castiel pulled out a second angel blade.

"Where did you – "

"This one was Tamandriel's," Cas remarked. "Sam should take it."

"Right, okay, what's the plan?"

"We save the eight immortals and hope for the best," Cas said. 

Sam slammed on the breaks and parked the car with the hazard lights flashing on the edge of the Tristen Road, hoping it would stop people from heading up that way for a while. Deshane opened the cap for Dean and Cas.

"You fight?" Dean asked.

"Not well, I'm afraid," Deshane admitted. "Come on."

Their entry went unremarked upon by Olivia, who raised her hackles to the seven immortals.

"Give me your magic," she snapped, "or I will rip it from you."

"You e'en know who we are, cher?" Hayden asked.

"Nothing," Olivia's eyes blacked again. "Not compared to me, kiddos."

"And you are?" Siler asked. "A randy little demon?"

"You might know me by the name Paimon," Olivia said. 

Bang! Dean took a shot with the Colt, but the demon teleported a few feet away, and the bullet embedded itself into a tree. 

"Well, now, look at this," Paimon-as-Olivia said. "Our motley crew keeps getting bigger."

Hayden saw Deshane and his eyes became wide. "Willowelf?"

"Yes, teacher," he replied.

"Touching reunion," Paimon said. "But I'm not one for patience – "

"You," Sam said. "You were the woman at the graveyard – "

"Sorry, Olivia isn't home right now," Paimon cut him off. "Now hold still while I slaughter you."

"She's Paimon," Ariq said. 

Paimon reached up and the darkened the sky. Thunder rolled, and hail fell. 

"Should I be impressed?" Dean asked.

"One of the kings of hell," Cas said.

"Wow, seven magical jackasses and an angel, it's my lucky day."

"Actually, five angels," Naomi's voice replied. 

She and three henchmen, or hence-angels, used the sound of thunder to cover their entry. 

Hayden suddenly had a large sword, which he swung through the air in a repetitive pattern. Dean could not make out what he muttered over the noise of the storm around him, but when he finished, a hot stream of red and green shot at Paimon, who jolted. 

"Now, now," Paimon taunted. "That tickles."

With a flick of her hand, Hayden's body went flying, and Deshane went to his side shouting, "Grandfather Lu!"

"Damnit," Sam whispered. "His sword is supposed to dispel evil spirits."

Naomi motioned to hench-angels one and three. "Gilemane and Haverford," she said. "Everthorn, with me."

Siler took up a sword of some kind, and Ariq dashed over to minister to Hayden with the help of Janya and Alex. Hiren had a shotgun, and together with Siler they took sentry positions over their wounded companion.

Dean felt like everything was in slow motion. The four angels took up strategic positions and went to move in on Paimon. He motioned for Cas to stay back.

"I'll go in with the demon knife," he whispered. 

"Dean – " Cas tried to say, but he didn't have time. A ball of fire hurled at Sam's head, so Cas tackled him to the ground. 

Gileman and Haverford attacked from either side, and Naomi and Everthorn made a frontal assault. Paimon appeared a sword in each hand and parried all four angels at the same time. When one of them, Gileman, exposed his flank for a heartbeat, Paimon slashed down and cut the angel in half, throwing his body to the ground where it erupted in white light. 

The three angels continued the assault, but it was as if Paimon had eight arms, not two. Dean slipped passed the wailing appendages with the demon knife and, with catlike skill, thrust the blade between Paimon's shoulder blades.

Paimon roared in pain, and Dean yanked the knife out to make his retreat, just in case the angels planned to take advantage. 

The next events all happened at once. Paimon decapitated Everthorn and Haverford with his two swords, his roar of pain echoing hugely and dissipating the storm. He swung both blades together in front of him, which should have slashed Naomi in half, but instead she was thrown down to the ground and someone else took a slicing hit from shoulder to thigh. 

"Cas!" Dean bellowed as he ran over him. 

Sam rounded on Paimon, who was still standing. The demon knife didn't work.

"Sorry, kiddos, your hardware isn't good enough for a thing like me!"

"What about mine?" Rommel said. He'd managed to approach noiselessly during the fray, and in his hands was a large jade object. 

"What – what's happening?" Paimon bellowed. 

Sam had thought Paimon being stabbed caused the storm to blow out, but he was wrong. Rommel held the Jade Tablet, and Sam remembered who he was. "Uncle Cao," he whispered. 

Paimon shrieked. His black smoke burst out of Olivia's dead body and flew away. 

Dean had pulled Castiel off of Naomi, who was covered in his blood but very much alive. Hayden stood up, healed from Paimon's assault. 

"Cas," he whispered, "hang in there, buddy." He looked up at Naomi, "Little help here?"

"I can't," she said.

"He just saved your life," Dean yelled, "you get that right?"

"My orders are to kill him," she said, "you're lucky I'm not following them."

Naomi disappeared. 

"Cas, tell me you can heal yourself," Dean pleaded. 

"The blade he used..." Cas muttered. 

"Ariq," Sam said, "or, Li, please."

"Normally I only help the needy, but, I suppose you did just save us," Ariq replied. He used his iron crutch to make his way over to Cas. He pulled out his magic gourd and began apply herbs.

Sam then turned to the others. "And what about Ed? He's the reason you're all free."

"Actually, it was you," Deshane said.

"No, this kid is the reason, we just lit stuff on fire. He was the one who helped us here, and all of you."

Hiren took out his flute, and he began to play a sad melody. Dean shook his head. Mourning and honoring someone was the not the same as actually helping him. Edward was just a twenty-something-year-old-kid. Even as Cas healed up, he felt the weight of it on his shoulders. He should've helped Edward, not the eight freaky immortal people.

Pop, crack! Edward's neck reset itself, and he stood up from the ground slowly.

"What happened?" he said blankly. 

"Good question," spat Dean. 

"Han Xiang," Sam said to his brother. "His flute can heal life."

"And what sent that demon running?" Dean asked. 

"Jade tablet," Cas said, getting to his own feet. 

"Careful," Dean fussed over the angel.

"That's right," Rommel replied. "It purifies an area."

"An area? How big an area?" Dean asked.

"Most of Louisiana," Rommel said mildly. 

"And for how long?" Sam asked.

"Few hours at least."

"So Paimon could be back soon," Sam said. "We need to get outa here, now." He looked at the eight immortals and Deshane. "You guys should, too."

Hayden put his arm on Edward's shoulder. "You have something many people do not. You have a long way to go, but I want you to come with us. In time, you will come to understand."

"Just, go with you?" Edward repeated. "Leave this place?"

"Yes," Hayden replied.

Edward nodded. "All right, yeah, let's do that."

Alex handed Sam something. "We are also in your debt. Thank you, Sam and Dean Winchester and Castiel."

A strong gust of wind enveloped Edward, Deshane, and the eight immortals. As soon as it passed, all ten disappeared. 

"Okay, so, we're screwed, and we need to get outa here now," Dean said.

"I'll drive."

 

Dean rode in the back with Castiel, letting Sam listen to whatever crappy music he felt like playing.

"Cas, why? Why did you save her?" Dean asked. "She was ready to let you die."

"Yes," he admitted. "Maybe she deserves to die for what's she's done. But so do I."

"Cas – "

"No, Dean, you need to understand this. You have forgiven me, but that's not the same as me being innocent. If she had died, who would tell heaven that Paimon was back?"

"You could."

"No, I can't."

"So you saved her so she can tell her angel buddies about Paimon?"

"Dean, he is a king of hell," Castiel explain. 

"Which means what?"

"You remember Abaddon?"

"Yeah, that bitch was a bitch."

"She was just a knight of hell. Compared to Paimon, Abaddon is a henchmen."

Dean took a deep breath. "So, powerful and hard to kill. Okay."

"It took an archangel to lock Paimon away. They should've killed him, but there were others, and only so many archangels..."

"We don't have any archangels left," Dean said. "Except Metatron, but – "

"I doubt he'll be able to help."

"Awesome."

Dean slumped down on Cas, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"For the last few weeks, I've been an idiot," Dean said quietly, "and I'm sorry. Cas, I – "

"We can talk about this later, when you're not half asleep," Cas interrupted. 

Dean did feel too tired to continue all; all the adrenaline from the fight drained away. "You promise we'll talk before you leave again?" he asked the angel.

"I promise," Cas rasped reassuringly. 

Without really thinking about it, Dean fell asleep across Cas's body. 

"Sleep well."

 

Sam set aside his research on Tezcatlipoca and witchcraft and pulled out books on demons. Castiel helped him, setting aside his own research as well. 

"You should talk to Dean," Sam said, sitting down in the war room.

"Sam, this is important – "

"Taking a few hours to live life won't slow us down," Sam said. "Not really. You should go talk to him."

"I would like that."

"And when you have time, we'll talk about Kuravi's mission."

Cas tilted his head inquisitively. 

Sam continued. "If Paimon was interested in the magic of people like the immortals, he's probably gonna want whatever else he can get his hands on. So we should help Kuravi's friends get free if we can. Assuming none of them are demons."

"They're not."

"Good, then we're helping," Sam said.

"But – " Cas began to protest.

"No buts."

Cas nodded and stood up. "Thank you, Sam."


End file.
